


Written In The Scars On Our Hearts

by Saoirse_Laochra



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adult Survivors, Amputee, Captain Swan - Freeform, Child Abandonment, Childhood Trauma, Drabbles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Issues, Mentions of past abuse, Recovery, Scars, Trauma, back story, broken Emma, broken killian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saoirse_Laochra/pseuds/Saoirse_Laochra
Summary: The Pirate and the Savior both had their fair share of scars. Their fair share of walls in place to protect the tattered remains of their hearts. But perhaps what made them work so well was the walls; was the scars.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I recently started watching Once Upon A Time Again (I'd stopped after Season 2 to watch other stuff), and absolutely fell in love with Killian Jones, and -to a lesser extent -the Captain Swan pairing.
> 
> Something I noticed though, was that a vast majority of the Captain Swan stories involve a tragically broken Emma learning to get over her walls, and fears, etc., but very few of them deal with Killian's past. Abandoned by his father, raised in -essentially- slavery from a young child to an adult, losing his brother, his first love, and his hand... He wouldn't be the most mentally stable or trusting person either. Hence... this fic.
> 
> These are short drabble pieces, that I'll update as I finish. If you have any thoughts, or particular scenes you would like to see me add to, let me know. Again, I've only seen the latest seasons once, and while I'm trying to rewatch them again, there's probably stuff I've missed that would be great in here. So feel free to let me know if you have anything you'd like me to add. There's no real length limit... some will be longer, some shorter, as the scene calls for.

There had been bumps on the road; God knows, there had been some bumps.

The Pirate and the Savior both had their fair share of scars. Their fair share of walls in place to protect the tattered remains of their hearts. But perhaps what made them work so well was the walls; was the scars.

They knew each other in a way few others would ever understand. They understood the pain of abandonment, the pain of loss, and the callouses built over to a once-soft, and carefree heart. They knew what it was to be so desperate to protect themselves, knowing that one more betrayal, one more loss, would be what it would finally take to shatter the remnants of their patchwork souls. They were, in an odd way, kindred spirits. Birds of a feather, and all that. Two lost souls echoing out across the barren landscape of their hardened, battle-scarred souls, desperate for someone, but afraid to trust.

 

* * *

 

_**CHAPTER 1** _

 

Emma was staring off into the darkened jungle, chewing her bottom lip, when the sound of a branch cracking behind her startled her enough to pull her from the log she’d been sitting on.

“S’alright, luv; only me,” Hook said quietly, leaning against a tree. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” She said quickly, feeling her cheeks redden at the obvious lie. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He gave her a sad smile as he pulled his flask from his jacket. “Not with that noise,” He said, taking a long pull from the flask. “Bloody awful, it is.”

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. “You can hear it too?” At his small nod, she gratefully accepted his proffered flask. “I thought I was going insane.”

Hook chuckled softly. “You’re not going mad, luv. I’m not surprised the others can’t hear it. The Pied Piper’s tune can only be heard by those who feel unloved, and abandoned. And the cries of the Lost Boys can only be heard by those who were lost once themselves.”  

Emma paused, flask half lowered, trying to keep the glare from her eyes. “I’m not lost,” She bit out, tossing the flask back to him.

He gave her that wry grin as he easily caught it, taking another long swallow before speaking. “You know, I’m half-tempted to say, maybe you aren’t lost now… But that’d be a lie too, wouldn’t it, Swan?”

“Oh really? And just what would you know about it?” She demanded bitterly.

The smile never left his face as he started walking back towards the camp, but his words stayed with her for the remainder of her lonely vigil.

“Because I can hear them too, luv.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

_**CHAPTER 2** _

 

“Killian.”

He stopped, the back entrance to Granny’s half-open as he turned to look at her. “What?” He asked roughly, unable to hide it.

“I… Thank you. For understanding. For… giving me time,” She said, folding her arms across her chest, and shifting from foot to foot in that annoying, endearing way she had when she was nervous.

Killian sighed as he pushed the door closed, moving back towards her. “I’m not giving _you_ time, luv. If it was about you, I would have done everything in my power to get Baelfire out of the way. Old friend or not, you’re a prize worth fighting for.”

She pulled back from the intensity in his voice, her face showing her confusion. “Well… then… why?” She finally sputtered.

Hook pulled back, leaning against the opposite wall. “Because Henry deserves a chance to have his father in his life. No boy should have to grow up searching for the secrets to be a man from strangers. I won’t do that to any lad.”

“That sounds a bit personal, Killian,” She said, almost flippantly, trying to hide the curiosity.

“Aye, luv. It is. My father… abandoned my brother and I when we were about Henry’s age. Well, Liam was; I was a fair bit younger. And I won’t have that particular stain on my conscience. If Baelfire steps up, and does right by the boy, I’ll concede. But you want to know a secret, Swan?” He whispered, leaning in close.

“What?” Emma asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to pull away again.

“He won’t. Whether it’s temptation… the pressure… wanderlust… or just plain _cowardice_ … They never _step up_ for long, do they?”

This last bit was whispered into her ear, before giving her a smile, and walking back out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

_**CHAPTER 3** _

 

“What’s that?”

Killian chuckled under his breath, still fingering the small, silver hoop earring. “Belonged to Rufio,” He said quietly. “Long dead now.” He gently placed the trinket back in the box where he kept his most precious possessions.

“I… You mentioned him. Back in Neverland. Who was he?” Emma asked, setting her hand on his shoulder.

“A two hundred year old demon… hiding in the body of a fourteen year old boy. He was one of the first Lost Boys Pan brought to Neverland –he was almost as old as Pan himself. Almost as cruel. But he lacked Pan’s… finer qualities.”

Emma scoffed as he stood. “I wasn’t aware Pan had finer qualities,” She said disbelievingly.

“Compared to Rufio? While the man who torments his dog into viciousness is just as evil, it’s the dog you should worry about.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Aye. I did. I was particularly inventive with his death too, after I saw what he’d done to several members of my crew.”

“What’d he do?” She asked softly, sitting down on the couch, and motioning for him to do the same.

“He skinned one of them alive. Left another tied on the beach at low-tide, to drown when the tide came back in. Cut off everything that ‘stuck out’ as he put it, to my first mate. The last he made drink a type of poison, that slowly burned him alive from the inside out. Vicious little bugger, he was.

“When I found what was left of them… I tracked him down. You ever heard of ‘keel-hauling’, Swan?” When she shook her head, he chuckled again. “It’s where you tie a rope to the front of the ship. Tie the other end around a person. Throw them overboard, and when the ship starts moving, they get dragged, from side to side. Lots of stuff grows on the bottom of a ship, luv. Barnacles are nasty, sharp little buggers –does quite a number on flesh being dragged across them. Done properly, a good keelhauling can last for days.

“After four days, I pulled him out. And then I nailed him to the front of my bow. Made him my figurehead. Poured a vial of spiders on him –their bite was incredibly painful. Would start to rot the skin off. He lasted about sixteen hours after that before he finally died. I could tell, you see, because the screaming finally stopped.”

He chuckled again, taking a pull from his flask. “When they pulled the body down… I knew I should feel guilty. There was this mutilated corpse of a fourteen year old lad, laying on my deck, completely broken. But I didn’t. He deserved what I did and more –no matter how young he looked… The boy was a monster.”

Emma nodded slowly. “I uh… I had a similar experience once, when I was a bail bondsman. Case came across my desk… Sixteen year old boy. He’d murdered his entire family –father, mother, two little sisters. After he skipped bail, he went on a rampage through Boston, killing anyone who got in his way.

“When I finally managed to, uh… track him down… he was sleeping. And when I looked down at him… He just looked so innocent, you know? When I pulled out my cuffs, the noise woke him up. He went for my gun, and we… we fought for it. Seemed like hours, but I knew it was only seconds. But in those seconds, I realized he wasn’t going to let me take him alive. So I broke away and I shot him. Three times, in the heart. He was dead instantly.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, before Killian shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the unpleasant memories.

“Suppose we all just do what we have to then.”


	4. Chapter 4

David didn’t look up, swirling the amber liquor in his glass, as the one handed pirate sat down on the stool next to him.

“Unless you need something, Hook, I’d rather be alone,” He said gruffly.

“Well that’s just too bloody bad, mate,” Hook said sharply, pouring himself a glass of the whiskey.  “Since your bloody fight with your daughter, she’d rather be alone as well. And I’m running out of places to bloody leave folks alone.”

They sat in tense silence for a few minutes, each nursing their drinks, before David sighed again, setting his drink down sharply.

“You know, one minute, she says she understands why we put her in the wardrobe. Why we sent her here. The next minute, she’s throwing it in our faces, like she’ll never forgive us for it.”

Hook chuckled bitterly. “That’s because she hasn’t. And she never will. Not in this lifetime, anyways.”

“We did it to save our people!” David barked, before looking around, embarrassed at the people staring at the two of them. “We had to,” She said, much quieter. “Why can’t she understand that?”

“Oh, she understands, mate. Makes perfect sense after all. She just can’t forgive you for it.”

David scowled at him over the top of his drink. “Aw, the hell do you know,” He growled, throwing back the last of his drink.

“My father… When I was a bit younger than Henry, he booked us passage on a merchant vessel. My older brother and I… We were thrilled. We were so poor, half the time we couldn’t afford a sturdy pair of boots. So… when he told us we were going on an adventure, we never questioned it.”

Hook’s voice was quiet as he spoke. “Then, one night… about a day out of our port… I woke, and my father was nowhere to be found. The captain told me… He said my father was a criminal. He’d earned the wrath of the Evil Queen, and… she had put a price on his head. My father had heard her knights were waiting for us at port, so he… He sold my brother and I to the captain, in exchange for a rowboat.

“I found my father. Hundred and fifty years later, oddly enough. He… he explained to me that he’d done it… to save us. He didn’t want the Queen to get her hands on us. And, in his defense… It worked. The knights searched the ship, didn’t find him, and left.”

He sighed, taking a generous pull from the bottle. “It made… complete sense. But it didn’t change what I’d went through. That I was a slave; beaten for any infraction, for ten years. That I watched my brother die. No amount of logic and reason could ever change that, David. No amount of… explanations, and ‘for the better good’ speeches could change what I had to go through. And that’s why she’ll never forgive you.”

He sighed, before standing, and patting him on the back. “Sorry, mate, but that’s the truth of things. I’ve got to go; I imagine Emma’s done brooding by now.”

As he went to leave, David’s voice stopped him.

“What happened? To your father?”

Hook turned, and gave him a sad smile. “Well… let’s just say I was a different man then, and leave it at that, shall we?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, in case you haven't noticed, these aren't in any particular order. As they come to me, I write them. Some of them might take place in Season 2, some in Season 5.

Emma is a hero. The kind who sees a bad situation, and steps in to correct it. If given the choice between two bad options, she makes a third option. When told there is no other way, and she has to do something she knows is impossible, or wrong, she ignores it, and makes her own path. She does what she knows to be right, no matter the cost, and no matter who disagrees.

And that’s something Killian knows he’ll _never_ be capable of. When he sees a bad situation, he goes out of his way to steer clear. When given a choice between two bad options, he picks the one easiest for him to live with. He does whatever he has to do to survive, and then picks up the pieces, and shoves them in a box in the darkest corners of his mind.

Emma _battles_ her demons.

He drinks his into silence.

He’s not a fool –he knows he’ll never be a hero. And most days, he’s alright with that. He’s the consummate survivor, and that’s served him well enough over the past few hundred years or so.

But there are days when he wishes he could _maybe_ be a hero. Days when the drinks aren’t enough to keep the demons at bay, and the price of his survival splatters itself on everything he sees. Days when the blood he’s spilled drips from the walls, and the screams of the innocents he’s condemned ring in his ears like bells. Days when he drinks the cupboards dry, just to try and drown them out.

Those are the days when he can’t escape the fact that he’s not worthy to lick Emma’s boots, much less hold her affection.

The days when he realizes that, no matter how much good he does now, it will never clean the slate.

The days when he realizes that he will _always_ be a villain.


	6. Chapter 6

_Wounds that are made when we’re young tend to linger._

They both tried to pass it off as lighthearted. They joked about it, to hide the fact that Killian broke the unspoken rule, and said something that actually hit at that spot. The one that’s scarred over too many times for it to ever heal properly, the one that only barely retains the shape of what it once was.

He carries the scars of his childhood on his body, a physical reminder of his time as a slave to Captain Silver. Every morning, when he pulls himself out of bed, he can feel the pull and tug of his marred skin, on his back, his shoulders, and his thighs. There are nights when he wakes, paralyzed, unable to move, lips locked in a silent scream. Nights when he can still feel the rivers of blood pouring out of him, pain coursing through him as fresh as it was when he was a mere boy.

Emma knows better than to comment on those nights. The nights when she finds him, pacing the house, bleary eyed, the smell of whiskey coating his breath like a mint, fighting his invisible demons. She understands, because, while she might not carry physical reminders of her childhood, she carries the mental and emotional scars like a heavy blanket she cloaks herself in.

Every time she fails –at anything, be it learning a new recipe, or saving the town –she can hear the voices of her foster parents, telling her how she was nothing before they took her in. How they took her in out of the kindness of their hearts, and she continued to disappoint. Every time Killian holds her hand, she can feel the fear of abandonment, and has to fight down the urge to run as far as she can, as fast as she can.

And Killian just knows. Those are the times when he tightens his grip, giving her that carefree smile he’s spent decades perfecting. The times when he casually wraps his arm around her shoulder, and pulls her close.

Neither of them is strong enough to fight their demons; they’re far too damaged for that. But they can fight the other’s demons. That…

 _That_ they are strong enough for. They can't be strong for themselves, but they can be strong for each other.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this was a request from BeautifulMess -I'm sorry it took me so long to get it up, but I lost my external hard drive that had all of my writing for the past fifteen years on it, and honestly, it was easily one of the most depressing things I've dealt with in a while. Had to get up the desire to write again.

"I didn't have a choice."

  
He can't help the feeling coiling deep in the pit of his gut, a feeling that had nothing to do with his new found knowledge of him being the Dark One at her words.

  
"You... _you_ didn't have a choice?" He bit out, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "What about _my_ choice? You _had_ a choice, Emma, and you _chose_ to take my choice away! You..." He stopped, unable to continue as his head spun with emotions.

  
"Killian, I did this _for_ you," Emma said, in that soft, stilted manner of speaking she'd had since her return as the Dark One. "I did this to _protect_ you."

  
"No! You don't get to decide my fate," He snapped, her words sending red-hot anger coursing through him. "I'm the only one who decides that. Not you, not the Crocodile, or Silver! Me."

  
Zelina grinned at him over Emma's shoulder, practically radiating with her glee. "Oh, this is just... so poetic, pirate. It really is. You spent your whole life trying to forget the time you spent as a slave, and now... Now your 'One True Love' has made you a slave again," She said with a malicious laugh, waving that damned sword about, his name glittering next to Emma's in the dim lighting. "A slave to whoever holds this sword. Oh, this really is simply perfect. Tell me, Emma, what do you think he's feeling right now, hmm? Rage? Helplessness? Despair, perhaps!"

  
"Killian, don't listen to her. She's just trying to -"

  
"Trying to what? Exactly what part of what she said was untrue?" He cried desperately, unable to tear his eyes away from the sword. "I'd made my choice, Swan! I chose to die a _hero_! But you... You took that choice from me. You turned me into a bloody monster!"

  
"I did this for you." There was a faint trace of despair in her voice, a hint of desperation, but he ignored it, focusing on her words.

  
"No, Swan -you did this for _you_! Did you even _once_ think of me? Of what I wanted? No, you bloody didn't," He seethed, feeling the anger and rage turn to ice. "You couldn't stand to be alone again, so you turned me into a slave so you wouldn't have to face your life without me as your damned crutch!"

  
A part of him knew that wasn't fair.

  
But a larger part of him didn't care.


	8. Chapter 8

Killian closed his eyes, breathing in the mist rolling off the lake.

  
In a deep corner of his mind, part of him screamed that this was wrong. No amount of vengeance on the Crocodile was worth this.

  
"But it's not just 'The Crocodile' you want vengeance on, is it?" The illusion of Rumplestiltskin asked with a giggle. "It feels good, doesn't it? Having all this power?"

  
"I don't want power," Killian muttered, staring at the hook. "I never wanted power."

  
"Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. But you've got the taste of it now, dearie. And remember: you can't lie to me! I'm you. And deep down, this is the first time in your wretched little life you haven't felt like a scared little boy."

  
"Shut up."

  
"You want vengeance on the lovely Miss Swan too, don't you? Oh yes. Beautiful vengeance on the woman you loved! The woman who betrayed you. You thought she loved you, but... she didn't." Another mad cackle followed his words, and the bloody little imp clapped his hands together in excitement. "If she did, she never would have turned you into this!"

  
"She knew I wouldn't have wanted this," Killian seethed, turning to glare at the Dark One. "I'd made my bloody choice, and she ignored it. Like what I wanted didn't matter."

  
"Oooh. What you've wanted has never mattered, dearie. You've always been... how do you sailors put it? 'At the mercy of the trade winds'? First with your father. Then with your master. Then your brother. Then Rumplestiltskin. Regina. Cora. Rumplestilstkin again... For someone who values freedom above all else, you spend an awful lot of time under the control of others.

  
"But, I imagine there's no pressure that way. You can't be held responsible if you weren't in control! But now... Now you have control. You control it all."

  
Killian fought the urge to take a step back as that twisted, golden-scaled face appeared directly in front of him.

  
"It's right there for the taking. All you have to do is reach out, and grab it," The Imp said, his voice turning deadly. "You can make them all pay. Everyone who's ever wronged you. Who's hurt you. Who's taken away your freedom. You can make them all... pay."


	9. Chapter 9

"I have to say, Captain, I... I am impressed with your tenacity. Truly, I am. Why, I have prisoners here who turn into sniveling, screaming messes at the mere sight of me. But not you. No, you... _You_."

  
Killian was careful not to move, not to aggravate his injuries, as Hades paced around in front of him. He fought down the part of him that wanted to close his eyes, the childish part that believed if he couldn't see the monsters, the monsters couldn't see him.

  
"You know, I'll admit, I find you... _fascinating_ , Captain. I've decided to make you my... shall we say, 'pet project'? And because I never do anything half-way, I decided to do some research into you. And what I found was just _fascinating_. The trials, the hardships, the _tragedy_... You know, it's really quite a wonder you didn't end up down here sooner. How long did you manage to cheat death? Two, three hundred years?

  
"You became an officer in the King's Navy; then one of the most feared captains to sail the seas as the dreaded 'Captain Hook'. Outwitted Peter Pan, nearly outwitted the Dark One, saved the Charming family a few times, and..." He paused, chuckling a bit, before continuing, "and you even found 'True Love' at the hands of the Savior. That's... I mean, wow, what a story of overcoming. You, a young boy sold into slavery by his own father -for a cheap, leaky _rowboat_ at that -to the man behind the Savior. I'm just... Wow.

  
"But you never broke. No matter what life threw at you, you just... persevered, shall we say. I mean, you don't exactly have the healthiest coping mechanisms, but still: the fact that you lived at all earns you some serious points. That you're not a sobbing, insane, babbling mess is just... amazing, truly. But it makes me wonder... What does it take to break you, Captain?"

 

Killian laughed, spitting out a wad of blood that had worked its way into his throat. "Better men than you have tried to break me. And you said it yourself, mate: I'm still here."

  
Hades stared at him for a moment, before laughing. "Well, technically, you're not ' _still_ _here_ '. I mean, you are dead, after all. Which also gives me the advantage. You see, here, in this place? I can do whatever I want to you... And you can't die. I could skin you alive, turn your insides into soup... And while you'll feel every last second of it... You won't get the blessed relief of death."


End file.
